


Brother John

by shokina_2000



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark, Gen, Horror, Psychological Drama, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shokina_2000/pseuds/shokina_2000
Summary: hope you enjoyed itlove you)





	Brother John

“Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?  
Brother John! Brother John!  
Morning bells are ringing!  
Morning bells are ringing!  
Ding, ding, dong!  
Ding, ding, dong!”

I woke up, surfacing from my deep mindless dreams. That song, ‘Brother John’, was pouring dispersedly. It was filling me everywhere as if I was a bottle full of sheet music and song’s words. “Morning bells” rang every fuckin’ morning, at the same time – 8 a.m.

I wanted up but then realized that my arms were still tethered by strong leather bands. Those bands – they were with me as far back as I can remember. They were toughly constricting my subtle skin, ripping into my wrists and ankles. I saw a fly on my left hand and tried to chase it away but unsuccessfully.

\- Good morning, darling! – hearing this voice was almost the most awful part of the day, except waking up. 

I kept dead silence.

Silence – it was what kept me safe all this time. I’ve heard that maniacs don’t necessarily want to kill their prey, and if you behave yourself calmly and do what they want you to – you can stay alive for a while more.

She came in my room, holding a heavy tray with butter porridge, crispy toasts, fresh strawberry jam and mug of steaming lavender tea.

That was the only puzzle for me in the earlier time of being here.

Why would they keep feeding me with such an expensive and luxury food?

But then. On a second day. I saw them. White little pills lying in it. Everywhere in the food they gave me. They kept my eyes and mind unfocused all day long ‘til the evening when I usually was being headed to the torture room. 

First I tried to fast but when they saw it they just hadn’t been giving me food for a week or so and when I finally had received it I ate everything.  
Now I’m used to it. Really.

The point is that it’s not a test. It’s just a game. And soon I’ll have a partner.

***  
I checked on my patient – he was lying on the bed, sheltered with coverlet, staring into the hoary ceiling. His dim and hazy eyes were unfocused.

I injected him, wrote a prescription – some tranquilizers and neuroleptics, that’s it. That was all I could’ve given him. It was all I could’ve helped him.

25-years-old Nick Johney, the chemistry student at Oklahoma University. He had some psychiatrical diseases (he thought that his parents were maniacs who kept him here as a prisoner and tortured him) which I couldn’t precisely recognize and if you ask me his parents didn’t actually insist. They just wanted me to come sometimes and check on his “mental balance”, as they called it.

But, really, how can we speak about mental balance in such a bad case?

\- Thank you very much, Mr. Branow. We appreciate your help and we decided to invite you to a dinner today. It’s Saturday, so, I hope, you’re free, - she stayed there, near her husband, smiling and stroking a towel she was carrying.

\- Oh, I really don’t know. But if you insist…, - I hesitated. Something in this situation gave me a really peculiar feeling. The way lantern’s light was coming through the black shade was giving me goosebumps for some reason.

\- Please, sir. I cooked a turkey with nut-butter and chocolate pudding for dessert; - her husband glanced at me as if I was a ghost and could disappear at any moment.

\- Well, I adore turkey… I admit your invitation, Mrs. Johney. Thank you.  
Suddenly my attention was caught by the yellow-black pin on the chest of Mrs. Johney – it was a very small black spider with a yellow chamomile. 

\- Maybe you could invite your family too?

\- Oh, I’m not married, I live alone, - when I said these words, I noticed weird gloss in Mrs’ Johney eyes but maybe it just seemed to me.   
“Yes”, - I said myself so and hanged up back my yellow coat, heading for a dining room.

***  
“Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?  
Brother John! Brother John!...”

I woke up tied to a bed with strong leather bands. My head was pounding. A daily light was thrusting through the blinded windows. The weird hazily recognized song was pouring dispersedly giving me goosebumps.

I turned my head right and flinched.

My yesterday patient – Nick Johney – was lying beside me, on the same bed, tied with the same leather bands.  
And the song was pouring through dynamics as though signalizing brain-new happy day.

Morning bells are ringing!  
Morning bells are ringing!  
Ding, ding, dong!  
Ding, ding, dong!”…

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it  
> love you)


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